Will to Live
by Chocobo Goddess
Summary: AC2 Leo/Ezio: Leonardo wants only one thing from Ezio.  And while, yes, sex WOULD be lovely, that's not it.  Let's see how this plays out.
1. Shadow

Venezia

When Leonardo woke, his window was open. Rain poured outside, waterfalls from the roof creating a fluid curtain that shifted just past the sill. The wind sent mist into the room that beaded on the fine nap of the curtain fabric and sparkled in the faint light of his dying fire. There were puddles trailing in from the sill, too, down the wall and across the floor, a stream too big to be from just the wind. Leonardo sat up in bed, gazed stupidly at the shutter and the storm. Then his brain put the image together and followed the puddles to a chair in the opposite corner of the room. A man waited there, haggard but awake. He was drenched, his clothes soaking into the damask cushion on which he sat.

"Ciao," said he, raising a weak hand. "I did not want to wake you, Leo, but since you are now-I wondered if you might be willing to put me back together?"

Even from the bed, Leonardo could see a dark, diagonal slash where the wound crossed the man's stomach. He flung the blanket from his legs and dashed to the chair. "What now?" he asked, fumbling in the dark for the basket he kept for just this reason. "How long have you been here?" He tried to shake off the image of the dream that had plagued him just before waking. There had been blood there, too: glossy crimson staining pure white feathers. Leonardo understood plenty about symbols to know whom those feathers siginified.

"Not long. A few minutes, I think?" A laugh as weak as the hand. "I was just scouting the Basilica. I missed a rooftop guard hiding behind a chimney. He didn't miss me." He grimaced, whether in pain or embarrassment, Leonardo did not know. "It was a stupid mistake."

"Oh, Ezio." Leonardo's hands carefully peeled away the torn fabric in order to see how bad the wound was. Ezio would need stitches, certainly, but the cut was shallow. Painful and bloody, but it could have been far worse. It had been in the past. "You were lucky tonight."

Leonardo stoked the fire for light; he dared not add a candle just yet lest the Watch see a sudden flare and wonder why he was up at this hour. The fire would be enough. He set to work, fell into the familiar motions of cleaning wounds, stitching, bandaging. It was a travesty, using his hands this way. As much as he knew the service was appreciated, he wished he could have been useful in some other manner. The scars that already crossed Ezio's skin were too numerous to count. Most were ghostly reminders of past fights, but some would never be smooth again. That ruined, chaotic design was a crime against aesthetics. Leonardo could barely bring himself to look.

And yet he could barely bring himself to look away. Aside from the marred skin, Ezio's body was a work of art in and of itself. Even at rest, slouched in a chair and soaking wet, his muscles were taut and defined in such a way that indicated constant motion, perfect balance, and ferocious strength. Quiet moments like this were rare and Ezio almost never sat still unless he was hurt or asleep.

At that thought, Leonardo checked to see which one it was. Ezio's chin had dropped to his chest, and now the young man breathed shallowly but steadily. Sleep, then, peacefully as if a needle and thread had not just passed through his skin a dozen times. Leonardo sighed, relieved and utterly saddened. How many more nights would pass like this? And which night would be the last?

"Oh, Ezio," he said again, softly so as not to wake his dear friend from his much-needed healing slumber. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

He stood and went to the window, rinsing the blood from his hands in the pouring rain before he closed the window, drew the damp curtain. The fire, he built up properly until it burned bright and hot to banish the cold. Once that was done, he turned to his guest. The clothes would have to stay for the moment, for he did not wish to move Ezio unless necessary, but the boots he could remove, the cloak, the hood. The bracers with their hidden blades, he left, knowing Ezio would feel safer with them than without. He noticed the faint shiver that rippled through the young man's body and swiftly grabbed his own blankets from the bed to cover him.

With Ezio securely cocooned, Leonardo fetched the warming pan from the foot of his bed and added a few coals that had burned down before. This, he placed under a sheet and between Ezio's bare feet to keep any remaining chill at bay.

Sleep was impossible now. Leonardo decided to dress and check the larder for whatever he might have to eat in the morning. Ezio would wake hungry as he always did after being mended. The bread was thankfully not moldy yet, despite the weather, and Leonardo had part of a wheel of dry cheese to go with it. He found olives, too, salty and soaking in their own spiced oil. It would do until he could go to the market after being certain Ezio would not try to leave on his own.

Leonardo wrapped himself in his cloak since his blankets were in use, brought his pillows over to the fire, and sat beside the warm stone to wait. He kept his hands busy with a piece of charcoal and a sheaf of paper, sketching lazy designs of the snapping fire and the rivulets of water, the folds of his blanket over Ezio's legs, the fall of dark hair that covered even darker eyes.

There was little else to do until morning, while Ezio slept.


	2. Highlight

The lightest touch of a hand on his shoulder, barely there and gone again, alerted Leonardo that his guest had finally woken. He kept his eyes closed, still half-dozing. He heard bare feet pad over to the bed, the rustle of the blanket being replaced, and then the footsteps returned to the fireside.

When Ezio reached for one of his boots, however, Leonardo caught it and held it to the ground. His eyes met Ezio's startled gaze and he shook his head. "Not until the rain stops."

Ezio flicked a glance to the window, where the rain still fell in heavy sheets. Though it was morning, the city was silent but for the rattle of raindrops and the low sound of the wind. No one would be at the market today, and no one would go out unless they had to.

"I should not overstay my welcome," said Ezio, but Leonardo firmly tugged the boot out of his hands.

"You should honor your host by not leaving so soon," he countered. "Sit down, Ezio. Rest for once."

The other man opened his mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, he gave in with the crooked grin that appeared all too rarely these days. "At least let me go get us something to eat, _amico mio_."

"That, I have covered." Leonardo stood, stretched. "Do I need to take your boots with me so you'll still be here when I return from the pantry?"

"Don't worry, Leonardo. I'll stay."

They toasted the bread by the fire and ate it with the sharp, grainy cheese. Ezio vastly appreciated the olives, and Leonardo even dug out a decent bottle of wine for the occasion. The mood was friendly, contented, relaxed. The wine helped.

It felt...decadent, sitting like this, a little wild and a little lazy. They took turns at tending the fire, and at one point Leonardo brought out a battered chess set. He almost put it away when a shadow flitted across Ezio's expression, but the younger man insisted he would enjoy a game. He lacked finesse when playing but his strategies were always unpredictable-something that Leonardo found intriguing.

Later, when the game was done, they talked. Leonardo held forth about his thoughts on the Codex, his art, his dreams. Ezio shared stories about his family, his friends. He never spoke of the future. Indeed, it was as if he was avoiding the very idea that there might be a tomorrow, and the omission did not escape Leonardo.

The rain continued into the evening. Leonardo checked his handiwork from the night before. The stitches held, and the wound already looked far better. Ezio would heal well, so long as he got another night of rest, and Leonardo told him so.

"I should not stay another night," Ezio insisted. "Every hour I am here puts you in danger, _amico mio_."

"Ezio," said Leonardo in his patient way, "I will hide your armor if it's the only way to keep you in one place."

Ezio said nothing, but crossed his arms and glared at the fire. That alone was enough of an indication that he really did not want to go but was unwilling to admit it. Leonardo could not help but smile. He picked up his charcoal once more and bent his head to his sketches to hide it.

After a few minutes of sulking, Ezio joined him on the floor. He sat stiffly, hiding the pain Leonardo knew he must feel with each movement. Still he said nothing, merely gazed into the fire, knees drawn up to his chest, hands clasped around them. It was at times like these that he said more with silence than with words, and Leonardo had known him long enough to hear. Ezio's thoughts were dark, moody, heavy.

Leonardo spoke before he realized what he was saying, giving voice to something he had meant to keep to himself. "You keep all of your vows, don't you?"

Ezio turned his head to look at him in mild surprise. "Of course. If I don't keep my word...well, it's all I have. Why?"

There was no going back; Leonardo realized he was committed. "I...I want you to do something for me."

The saucy smirk was back. "For you, _amico mio_, anything." Some of the tension went out of Ezio's shoulders as he found himself on familiar ground. "I ask so much of you, it's only fitting I repay you somehow. What is it? You have only to ask."

Such an openhearted offer, and so innocent. Leonardo felt a sudden warmth inside him that had nothing to do with the wine or the fire. "Oh, now that is terribly tempting. 'Anything' is a very large word, Ezio. I could imagine many, many things. Are you sure that is what you mean?"

Ezio gulped a little at the change in the air, but his pride made him nod. "Of course. I owe you my life already."

Sketches forgotten, Leonardo regarded him with hooded eyes. "This is true. So then I may ask...anything of you?" He leaned close to speak into his ear, and to Ezio's credit, the other man did not flinch. Leonardo was near enough to see the pulse pounding at Ezio's throat, visible because Ezio had otherwise gone very, very still. "Then," said Leonardo, his breath ghosting over the olive skin, "I know what I want."

"Say it and it is yours." The words were faint but determined.

Leonardo moved so that he could look directly into Ezio's eyes and placed a hand on either side of Ezio's face. "I want you to grow old."

Confusion and surprise warred for supremacy, and in the end, it was a combination of both that reigned over Ezio's expression. "What?"

"I want you to become an old man." It wasn't coming out right, but Leonardo could not stop himself. "Please, Ezio. I want to see silver in your hair, and lines on your face. I want you to feel the aches of age and to complain about how the younger generation doesn't understand what you went through in your own youth. I want you to live."

"Leonardo," said Ezio, wonder coloring his tone. "I...I cannot promise this. My work-I am an assassin. You know how unpredictable and dangerous it is!" He pulled away from Leonardo's hands, from the intense blue eyes that held him in place. "Ask me anything else."

"Nothing else would matter." Leonardo dropped his hands to his lap. "Not if you die."

"I can't help this. You ask this just after I have come in with another wound-I have no way of telling when some guard will be lucky again. It could happen anytime. It's not possible."

"You have never shunned something for being impossible before." Their eyes met again, and Leonardo went on. "I ask this because of what happened last night. I ask because you never look forward beyond your next target. You live only in the moment, and I want you to think of the future!"

"There can be no future for me until my enemies are dead," retorted Ezio, but Leonardo waved him off.

"New enemies always appear. New battles. They don't matter, Ezio, not in the long run. Don't you have dreams? Dreams that don't involve bloodshed and revenge? Don't you _want_ anything?"

They were standing now, facing each other across the hearth. Leonardo ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that said, _you are a hypocrite for denying your own dreams_. Instead, he turned away in anger and defeat. Ezio's voice stopped him.

"Of course I do." There was a weariness in that voice, a ragged edge that tore through Leonardo's heart. Then, more softly, "Of course I have dreams. But they must remain out of reach until I have fulfilled the promises I have already made to myself."

The rain doubled in force, thrummed on the roof and clattered on the balcony, hissed at the window pane. For a while, it was the only sound. Leonardo tried to control the disappointment that roiled in his chest, the anger at just how unfair it all was. The room no longer felt warm and cozy, but cold and empty.

Then Ezio's voice broke the silence between them. "I think...however, I think, ah, that I can add one more vow to the list." He coughed politely. "I did offer you anything, _amico mio_."

Leonardo turned. "Out of curiosity, what did you think I was going to ask?" Ezio reddened and looked away, and Leonardo had his answer. "Ah. Well. That might have been my next choice."


	3. Contour

*****

Ezio seemed to cast about for a response, startled, but held his tongue. Leonardo could see the thoughts whirling in his head, the hows and the whys and the what-ifs. He found it almost sweet, that someone with Ezio's reputation could still be so innocent. They stood, unspeaking for some time with only the sound of the rain and the soft hiss and pop of the fire.

At last, Leonardo sighed. "I wouldn't actually ask that, you know." He did, however, reach out to cup the side of Ezio's face with a gentle hand. Once more, Ezio remained still and did not shy from the touch; his dark, golden eyes shadowed and deep in the firelight. "I would not destroy what already exists between us for the sake of a physical want."

He stepped closer, felt the hitch in the other's breath. The muscles under his fingertips tensed, then softened as if Ezio was forcing himself to calm. But now Leonardo had his attention. His hand curled into the brown hair, whether to keep Ezio in place or to simply feel that softness against his skin, Leonardo did not know. The distance between them was negligible now; Leonardo could feel the faint brush of contact with every rise of Ezio's chest.

When Ezio said nothing in response, Leonardo went on, eager to fill the silence lest he undo himself. "_Ti amo_," he murmured, and this time Ezio _did_ start. "You seem surprised. I don't know how you never noticed. Ezio, Ezio, _bello mio_, I have always loved you."

"Why?" The single word was barely a breath, indrawn and pale.

"Why does anyone fall in love with anyone else?" Leonardo shook his head. "Perhaps it is just chance or fate that one soul finds its match in another. Or perhaps there is a God and He wants all of His children to have someone to love them." He felt a rueful smile pull at his lips. "Then again, maybe there is no rhyme or reason. I should hope at least that there is no gleeful, malicious power laughing down at us, at such a one-sided love as this."

"Leonardo..."

"Don't say it." Leonardo could no longer help himself; he leaned against the broad chest before him, rested his head on the powerful shoulder, breathed in the scent of rainwater and leather and olives that he still could detect on Ezio's skin. But those were underlaid with the coppery tang of blood and the warm smell of sweat, reminders of the danger and fear that were Ezio's constant companions. "Everyone deserves to be loved, _amico mio_. Even if it is unrequited, or unanswered, or indifferent, or unknown. Our paths crossed for a reason all those years ago, and I would never have changed any of it."

His arms went around the unresisting form, and at the familiar embrace, he felt some more of the tension leave the other's body. More beautiful still was the warmth of Ezio's arms about _him_. Leonardo clung to him, though he might never admit that was what it was. Ezio, too, fisted fingers in the loose cloth of Leonardo's chemise and held on as if for dear life.

And still, Leonardo knew, he _knew_ beyond all doubt that there was no romantic undercurrent in the touch. Ezio might be skilled in stealth and able to fool his enemies, but he was not such a good actor to be able to hide from Leonardo's knowing eye. The last bit of hope that still guttered in Leonardo's heart-the bit that had held out for so long for some miraculous acknowledgement that his feelings were returned-finally died, and yet Leonardo could not mourn its passing. It had been a long time in coming and he was ready for it to go.

Leonardo let out a breath he had not noticed himself holding, even as his arms tightened around Ezio. "Ahh, _caro_. You know that nothing has changed between us, don't you?"

"Hasn't it?" The words were gruff but still gentle, careful.

"Of course not. I have felt like this for years-it is not a new thing. I will always be here for you. I will always help you in any way I can. My reasons have always been the same and they are still the same. The only thing that has changed is that now _you_ know."

"_Mi dispiace molto_, Leonardo," said Ezio, and Leonardo knew he meant it. "I wish-"

"Wishing a thing does not make it so." Leonardo embraced him for a moment longer, then released him. "Any more than wanting to be healed makes the skin mend any faster. Get some sleep, _caro_, and in the morning the rain should be ended. You can leave under cover of the fog and no one will see you."

Ezio sighed, ran his fingers through his loosened hair. He turned to go back to the chair but Leonardo stopped him.

"Take the bed. I...will not be able to sleep for some time. But you need it." He turned away from the protests that followed, partly to arrange the blankets on the bed and partly to avoid seeing some kind of pity on Ezio's face. "Please, Ezio."

He might have been fine except for the apologetic hand that came to rest on his shoulder. It was too much to bear. Leonardo's will broke and he braced his arms on the bedpost as he struggled to keep himself together. The hand slid forward, was joined by another, and then he was being embraced from behind, a sweet, solid presence at his back. It was brotherly, utterly devoid of sexual intent, but even then, Leonardo welcomed the touch. He covered the hands with his own and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Then he was falling, still held in those arms, and he realized they were falling _together_. The bed was soft and warm and he was trying desperately to keep from _crying_, of all things. And then he _was_ crying, which angered him and made his shoulders shake with the effort of holding it all back.

Through it all, those arms never left him. Ezio held him close, held him down, his dearest friend, and comforted Leonardo as best he could with just his existence, a few soft words, and nothing more. He did not mention the tears or the weakness or the things they'd said earlier. There was no censure and no expectation, just a closeness born of years of _amicizia._

_Friendship._

Leonardo wondered if his own words were still true-that nothing was different, nothing would change. He had Ezio, he had Ezio's vow. But that was all.

It was enough. It had to be.

"I'm all right," he said at last, shakily. He tried to slip free of his friend's-his _friend's_-grasp. "Get some sleep now."

"Stay." Ezio's tone brooked no discussion, tired though it might be. "It's a compromise."

Leonardo considered arguing, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He just clutched the pillow under his head and tried to absorb every breath that pooled on the back of his neck, every faint twitch of the arms that still surrounded him, every moment that he spent with Ezio so close. Instead, the drumming of the rain and the warmth of the bed and the exhaustion of emotion all conspired to send him to sleep.

It was in this way that Leonardo finally spent the night with Ezio. Not quite the fulfillment of his desires, but he would have to take what he could get.

*****

Morning found them unchanged, though perhaps Ezio had curled closer around Leonardo, and perhaps Leonardo had turned so he could spoon into Ezio's warmth. Leonardo lay there for some time in the thin grey light of dawn. Something was different, something upon which he could not place a finger.

It was the silence. The rain had stopped.

Ezio murmured something in his sleep and hugged Leonardo closer. Leonardo had to close his eyes and count to ten before he could muster the will to extricate himself from the bed. The moment could not last forever, after all.

He stretched his arms over his head, let them flop to his sides, and crossed barefoot to open the window. Outside, the world was obscured by shifting fog that had rolled in from the canals. The mist of Venezia always fascinated him, made up as it was of a thousand unnamed colors, changing, restless, secretive. Without the constant noise of the rain, but still muffled by the roiling gloom, the city seemed deserted. Leonardo crossed his arms on the damp sill and leaned out, just to feel the cool air on his face.

Behind him, the creak of the bed and the scuff of footsteps on the floor told him that Ezio was awake as well. Leonardo rested his chin on his arms and listened to his friend dress. Buckles clinked, leather and fabric made a susurrus as they rubbed together. Then there was a sound with which Leonardo was almost too intimate: the slide of metal on metal. Ezio was dressed, armed, ready to go. The footsteps-changed by the addition of boots-approached him.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to stay for breakfast, can I?" Leonardo attempted and failed his usual cheerful tone.

"Not today, _amico mio_. Though next time, perhaps."

Leonardo looked at him sideways. Ezio's color was better; two nights' rest had been good for him. "I hope next time, you don't have to come through the window in the night."

At that, Ezio smiled, that sweet, crooked smile that was uniquely his. "I will see what I can do."

"Ah, well." Leonardo straightened and offered his hand, uncertain. Surely it would be...strange, to hug as usual. To his surprise, Ezio ignored the handshake and embraced him as though nothing had happened. After a moment, Leonardo returned the gesture. "Remember your promise," he said softly against Ezio's armored shoulder, then stepped back to let his friend climb easily to the windowsill.

The smile flashed once more, then the beaked hood was drawn up and Ezio was turning to go. "Always, Leonardo. _A presto!_" With a twist and a heave of his legs, a pull of his powerful arms, Ezio disappeared upward into the mist.

Leonardo waited to hear any other sign that Ezio had been there-the sound of his feet on the roof, or a grunt as he hefted himself up a wall, but there was nothing more. He listened for a moment longer, just in case, but then the chill of morning was too much to take. He closed the casement against the cold and went to build up the fire.

He decided to go out later, when the sun rose and burned away the mist. There was still work to be done and errands to run, but all that could wait. For now, he wanted to go back to sleep to make up for the time lost while caring for Ezio's wounds.

The bed still smelled like him. Leonardo nested in the blankets, breathing in the soothing scent, lulling himself back to sleep. It would not occur to him until much later that now, when he dreamed, the bloody feathers no longer troubled him. At least one fear in his heart had been put to rest, now that he knew Ezio would live.

He had Ezio's word, after all, and Ezio always kept his vows.


End file.
